I've Been to Heaven and the Lord Wasn't There
by TheTearsOfAnAngel
Summary: It's not that Michael doesn't have Free Will, he is one of the most powerful beings in existence, second only to God(and Amara). So it isn't that he can't choose because everything's a choice. Michael chose. He chose to obey. CageFam! Swan Song rewrite


**Hello, loves. I've got a new Supernatural fic! SPOILERS for Season 5, and MAJOR SPOILERS for Season 5 Episode 22 Swan Song. Large amounts of dialogue have been taken directly from the episode. This is a prequel to a longer fic that I have begun. Would you rather me post the next fic as I finish writing chapters or after I finish writing as I edit? Posting as I write will get the sequel begun faster, but with an irregular posting schedule. Posting after it's complete will mean a longer wait for a sequel, but once I start posting, I will have a more regular posting schedule.**

Word Count not counting AN - 3522

 **IMPORTANT! DO NOT SKIP! The formatting of the text shows the speaker when characters are communicating within their minds rather than out loud.**

 **Warning to anyone reading this in 'reader view' on a mobile device: sometimes underlined words are stripped of formatting on the 'reader view'. This story sometimes uses underlined text to show POV and who the communication is directed to.**

 _ **Bold and Italicized**_ \- Adam speaking to Michael

Underlined \- Michael's thought directed at Adam

 _Italics_ \- emphasized

Any single word in a phrase with special formatting - emphasized

"Text" - dialogue

POV - Michael

 **Read and review!**

Michael had always hated emotions. No, after a moment's thought he realizes that's not quite true. He vaguely remembers a time when he rejoiced in love and happiness alongside his brothers, but that time has long since faded. He still does find contentment in the Host of Heaven, that is all he allows himself to find. If he permits himself to feel one thing then he can feel everything. If he can again be happy, he can again be hurt. It is nearly impossible to hurt an archangel, and Michael thinks that if he were capable of emotion that he might even hate his father for allowing them this weakness. Mortality would be preferable to this.  
 _ **Emotions aren't bad, Michael**_.  
Shut up. Michael grips his head. It's been eons since he had taken a vessel for more than a moment whose soul still burned brightly within the body and had yet to find eternal happiness contentment in Heaven. Not that Heaven is still the paradise that it once was. No, the golden walls have long since darkened and become warped with age.  
 _ **They're not.**_ Michael whines softly. He considers silencing the soul and leaving his mind with the peace and quiet he needs to think, but before he makes up his mind, the soul speaks again. _**It's a trade-off. Yeah, you get really crappy stuff, like grief and betrayal, but you also get love. You get pride and joy.**_  
Pride is a sin. Michael cannot comprehend the light that pulses from the soul at the mention of the sin. Of course, perverse pleasure comes from living in sin, but the feeling of pride that this soul seems to have is different from the evil he had been taught pride to be.  
 _ **Really?**_ Michael swears he feels the soul roll its eyes. Souls don't even have eyes! Damned Winchesters. Even dead they break the rules. He thinks he might understand what the soul means by pride now. Not pride as in arrogance, but a joy in accomplishments of yourself and others. This pride leads not to destruction but is the aftermath of creation. His vessel has not a haughty spirit. Michael himself has felt pride in his father, his brothers, and sisters. _**Yeah. That's exactly what I meant.**_ His vessel seems mildly surprised that Michael had managed to stumble across the meaning behind the nondescript reference to pride as a virtue. _**And I'm not a Winchester. It's Adam Milligan. Get it right.**_ _  
_John Winchester-  
 _ **Got my mom pregnant and decided that meant he had a right to pick and choose when to be a dad. He was my sperm donor. Nothing more.  
**_ Sam and Dean-  
 _ **Let me die. As far as I'm concerned, the Winchesters' only connection to me is being the reason my mom is gone.**_  
Do you not blame me for your death? Michael doesn't know where this question comes from. Blame matters not. Michael's actions were for the celestial purpose and if this inconsequential soul cannot comprehend that, then it is no fault of Michael's. Still, he finds himself waiting with baited breath for his vessel's answer.  
His vessel seems to sigh. _**No. Zachariah killed me, the Winchesters caused it. Your only crime was not preventing it.**_ The wave of relief that washed over Michael at these words is unwarranted. He does not enjoy being hated, however, and no longer believes that he would be more at ease alone in his head. The company is … comforting. _**Maybe I should blame you, but-**_ The pause is heavy. _**I just … don't.**_ Michael nods. Whether he is unable or unwilling to form words, he does not care to know. The conversation between archangel and (nearly) true vessel is ended. Michael leaps into the air and allows his glistening wings, second only to the Morningstar's shining light, to lift him effortlessly through the ether.

The chosen field is just as he imagined it and yet nothing as he expected. Michael scoffs to himself and nearly laughs as he gazes at the cemetery before him. At least the body won't have to be moved when brother slaughters brother. Lucifer is already there, posture relaxed as he awaits his brother's arrival. Michael's vessel's heart flutters and Michael curses the lack of control.  
"It's good to see you, Michael." Lucifer's cool tone bites at Michael's nonexistent heart. Michael is overwhelmed by a rush of emotion and he finds himself using a modicum of grace to school his features into complacency rather than his usual method of clean, cold control. Michael opens his mouth to respond and unexpectedly finds himself no longer with full control of his limbs. Adam has pushed his consciousness forward to gain a semblance of control over the vessel.  
"You too." Michael scowls internally as Adam makes the vessel smile slightly. He is perfectly capable of forcing Adam down and completely covering his consciousness, but permits curiosity to get the better of him and decides to wait a moment to see if Adam intends to relinquish control momentarily. The probability of this is higher than with another vessel, considering Adam is pretending to be Michael and seems to be appealing to Lucifer on Michael's behalf, rather than attempting to appeal to Sam on his own behalf.  
"It's been too long. Can you believe it's finally here?" He gestures at the field and Michael agrees with his vessel. The apocalypse came far too soon.  
"No. Not really." Michael is again surprised when he realizes how pleasant Lucifer's brutal honesty is.  
 _ **You missed it.**_ Michael hadn't realized that Adam had relinquished control whilst Lucifer spoke and was again a soothing presence in Michael's mind. Adam had burrowed into a niche in Michael's grace and left Michael feeling whole in a way that he had not felt since before his father left, since before Lucifer fell, since before his family had fallen apart. _**You missed Lucifer. It's not a bad thing to miss your brother, Michael.  
**_ Michael ignores his vessel's words, too wise for his age, and speaks to the Adversary, "Are you ready?"  
Lucifer shrugs, "As I'll ever be." Honest he may be, but the casual air which Lucifer refers to The End is mildly unsettling. "A part of me wishes we didn't have to do this."  
Michael sighs for his little brother, wishing he could know how much Michael agrees with him, wishing to hold Lucifer again in his arms and run his fingers and wing tips through Lucifer's shining feathers and whisper promises to him as he fell asleep, safe as could be.  
Michael closes his eyes, for just a moment. Short enough to be a blink, but long enough to remember what life used to be.  
 _ **Tell him.**_ Michael doesn't move, but his dissent is clear.  
"Yeah. Me too." Michael can feel Adam facepalming. _**Not what I meant!**_ Michael knows what his vessel meant but still finds himself unable.  
"Then why are we?" Lucifer meets his brother's eyes and Michael can see the raw emotion held in the borrowed orbs. It sickens him. This is the disease that caused Lucifer's fall in the first place.  
"Oh, you know why!" Michael knows his brother is searching for a specific answer and scoffs at the thought that the Adversary could manipulate the Sword of God. "I have no choice-"  
"What do you mean you have no choice?" Lucifer interrupts Michael. "There's always a choice."

Always a choice! He knows not of what he speaks! Michael's grip on the common tongue of he and his brother's vessels flies from his grasp as his mind flits from Enochian to human ancient and old tongues. To say there was always a choice when Michael had lost so much to Free Will and given up more to eradicate it so no more of his family could come to harm, was the ultimate indignity. He will not allow this slight to go unpunished. His grace begins to bubble and rise.

 _ **Michael, shh. It's okay. I know. You just have to talk to him. He'll understand. It'll be okay. You're all right.**_  
Michael nods to Adam. It might be considered a small miracle that his vessel does not fear him. Michael sends a quick prayer of thanks for this to his father, knowing his father will not hear, but wanting his vessel to hear his appreciation. Michael does not find himself able to thank people. Perhaps the sin of pride is innate in himself and his brothers, for they too thank only their Father. The sentiment, however, is not diminished.  
Michael stutters slightly when he responds to Lucifer, "I-I mean, after what you did…" He trails off, unable to form words.  
 _ **That's okay. You're doing good. Just keep talking. Listen to me if you need to ground yourself. You're not alone, Michael.**_ Another reason that Michael refuses to admit he hasn't silenced Adam's soul is that Adam stabilizes him. It has been so long since someone understood Michael, since someone was willing to unselfishly just talk to the archangel, that Michael could never willingly throw that away.  
"What I did? What if it's not my fault?" Michael scoffs at his brother's plea. How could Lucifer's exercise of Free Will be anything but his fault? Who, save himself, could Lucifer blame?  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Lucifer gives Michael a look as if he is supposed to already know. Michael hates feeling less than his little brother and lifts himself straighter in retaliation. Within their vessels, Michael does not have the height advantage, nor does his vessel have the advantage in physical strength. Michael raises his wings, posturing threateningly. The temperature of the cemetery rises along with the temper of the eldest archangel.  
"Think about it." Lucifer implores his brother to understand. Michael doesn't want to. "Dad made everything. Which means he made me who I am!" Michael winces. It has been millennia since he heard their Father referred to as 'Dad'. It hurt that the Fallen One was the only one to still speak of him with such familiarity. "God wanted the Devil." Lucifer's callous words cut Michael to the core.  
 _ **Don't let him hurt you, Michael. You're stronger than that.**_  
Michael lifts his head again, this time with the careless air that Lucifer has long since adopted, "So?" It shouldn't feel good to see his little brother crumple at his words, but Satan as his witness, it does.  
"So why?" If Lucifer starts to beg, Michael isn't going to be able to keep this up. "And why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point." Michael's heart breaks for the naivety of his little brother. There is no point. They are all slaves to our Creator's whims. Lucifer had understood that once.

"What's your point?" Please, please, please. Don't have a good one.

"We're going to kill each other." Damn. That is a good point. "And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer." Michael doesn't think Lucifer can do anymore to stab the knives further into his heart. "We're brothers." Oh. Now he's twisting them. "Let's just walk off the chessboard."  
 _ **Do it. You know you want to.  
**_ I do. But I can't.  
Michael bites his tongue.  
 _ **My tongue.**_  
Michael bites Adam's tongue.  
"I'm sorry." Michael has no idea how he's not crying. Perhaps he has forgotten how. "I-I can't do that." He wants to. So, so bad, he wants to. "I'm a good son, and I have my orders." He wants to damn his horrid orders, but that is a sacrifice he can't make.  
"But you don't have to follow them."  
"Yes! I do!" Michael's outburst surprises everyone: angels and conscious vessels both.  
Lucifer is the first to recover, "Why? You've made it clear you disagree with them. What is it that makes you so willingly follow orders you know are wrong?"  
 _ **Tell. Him.**_  
Michael takes a breath. Father, give him strength. He needs it for what he is about to say. "Look around you. What here is worse, my situation or yours? Father loved you. And when you were gone, He left. What is there for me but misery and pain in disobedience? Your Free Will nearly cost the rest of us our lives. I'm the only ruler of Heaven some of the angels can remember. I can't sacrifice all of them for selfishness. No one was the same after your Fall. To see Father's greatest gift bastardized in such a way and turned against us all? You broke us, Lucifer. You broke our family." Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again without a word.  
He opens his mouth again, but this time Michael cuts him off. "I want to stop more than nearly anything, little brother, but you know better than anyone the consequences I'll face. Look at Castiel. Look at Anna. Look at Gadreel. Look at yourself. Look at Gabriel." Tears flow freely down Michael's borrowed face.  
A raw cry rips from Lucifer's throat, "No. Dad! Michael, no! You claim my actions broke you, how do you think yours broke **me**?!"  
Michael and Lucifer both are ready to be done, to give in to the angels they might have once been, but blasting music pulls them back from the edge. They straighten, looking every bit the powerful weapons that they are. The arrogant, unnecessary little vessel waltzes into the chosen field as if it is his beloved Impala.  
Dean Winchester smirks self assuredly, "Sorry. Am I interrupting something?" Michael and Lucifer's twin glares are enough to make a vengeful ghost run back to his grave. _Is he interrupting something?_ The little mud-monkey has no right to be here. Ignoring Michael, Dean Winchester walks to his brother's body. "Hey. We need to talk."  
Lucifer sneers, "Dean. Even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid."  
"I'm not talking to you." He had better not be. No one, no one! Talks to Michael's brother that way. "I'm talking to Sam." Sam is gone, Bug.  
 _ **Stop him, Michael. I hate him but I don't want to see him die.**_ Michael starts. He had forgotten he had not been alone with his brother. He feels the Milligan boy's pride in him and bites their tongue. The last time anyone had felt true pride in him, humanity had not yet been born.  
I'll do my best.  
"You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You've got no right to be here." Michael draws Dean and Lucifer's attention, diffusing the tension slightly.  
Dean locks eyes with Michael, painfully human, "Adam, if you're in there somewhere, I am so sorry."  
 _ **Let me talk to him.**_ Michael's fury is quick to rise. The protective feeling he had and still does, to a degree, for his little brothers has added Adam to their ranks.  
No! I won't let you subject yourself to him. Michael knows he sounds petty. He doesn't care.  
 _ **Michael, please!**_ No amount of begging will soften Michael's resolve. He hurt so many trying to protect them. He will protect one person, right.  
"Adam's not home right now." Adam cries from the recesses of Michael's mind and Michael feels a pang of sorrow for forcing this upon the innocent boy.  
 _ **Michael, stop it! Don't lie to him! Dean!**_  
"Well then, you're next on my list, buttercup-"  
"Dean!" Dean cuts himself off abruptly as Michael convulses and bends over himself, staggering in pain. (He doesn't want to be in pain. He doesn't want to cause pain. But that's all he does, isn't it? Hurt, and be hurt.)  
Dean glares, "Cut the crap. I need a minute with-"  
He's cut off again with a breathy gasp, "I don't think I have a minute before he pushes me back. Dean, I'm not Michael, it's Adam."  
Dean gapes.  
"You need to leave. Get out of here now!" Adam grimaces and bites his lip. His eyes, fiery, human, meet Dean's. "You need to go."  
Dean smirks ruefully and shakes his head, "I can't. I'm not leaving my brother alone." Adam's eyes flash and his face hardens in rage. The grace of Michael suddenly powering him rather than holding him back. Lucifer smirks at the unfolding scene and watches silently.  
"What did you just say?" His voice is cold and reminiscent of the archangel quietly residing in the recesses of his soul. Dean and Lucifer both flinch slightly, not that either of them would ever admit to it.  
The oldest Winchester's stubbornness once again gets the better of him and he draws himself up, creating an illusion of height over Adam. "I said, I'm not leaving my brother alone."  
"Are you blind, Winchester?" A faint ringing grates on Dean's ears as Michael speaks with Adam, their voices blending together. The temperature rises and the grass surrounding Adam begins to wilt. "Your brother is not alone." A dangerously warm glow lights Adam's eyes. "Neither one of them." Dean swallows hard. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again as Lucifer's icy glare joins Michael's fiery one. Cowed, for once in his life, Dean takes a step back. Before he can make any other move, for better or for worse, a call rings through the cemetery.  
"Hey, ass-butt!"  
Adam startles and concedes control. Michael turns to the source of the call. Castiel holds a crudely made weapon, likely human in nature and unlikely to affect a being such as Michael.  
 _ **Get down!**_  
Michael finds himself flung haphazardly to the ground, body struggling to obey the whims of two separate entities, both still stunned by the connection they had formed. Castiel's bottle flies cleanly over Michael's head and ignites a nearby section of grass.  
Michael scowls as he picks himself up off the ground and brushes leaves, grass, twigs, and dirt from his clothes, I would have been fine.  
 _ **Don't lie to me.**_  
Michael scowls as he admits both to his vessel and himself that Castiel was apparently less of an idiot than Michael had given him credit for. Burning with holy fire would have been excruciating.  
Still Michael frowns. There is still one thing that does not make sense to him. You would have been fine.  
Michael can feel Adam's amusement, but cannot comprehend the reason behind it. _**Like I would let you catch fire just because it wouldn't have hurt**_ _ **me**_ _ **.  
**_ I do not understand.  
Michael wants an explanation, but Adam dismisses what to him is second nature, and an enigma to Michael, _**I was concerned about your well-being. So sue me.**_  
They don't have time to continue to converse because Castiel rushed them with his blade after they ignored the several rounds of bullets Bobby had emptied into their chest(and subsequently the ground). Michael ducks and meets Castiel's blade with his sword. Adam sees the fight through the eyes he shares with Michael, but still is unable to see how Michael manages to nearly instantaneously have Castiel pinned to the ground, sword at his throat.  
Michael growls, "Leave, little brother. This is not your place."  
Castiel meets Michael's gaze, "My family is here and as such, this is my place."  
Michael's gaze, as well as his grip upon his weapon, softens. Perhaps the curse of humanity and the disease of the Fallen is not the hateful lack of light, but an evolutionary trait gained only by the deserving. "Your family does not wish to see you hurt for their folly."  
Castiel glares harshly at the eldest archangel, "I was not referring to you and Lucifer. You have both _lost_ the right to refer to me as your family." Michael wants to say his heart breaks at those words, but in truth, the shattered pieces simply need to be picked up again. Michael swings a fist blindly and relishes in the crunch of his little brother's (not his little brother. Not anymore.) bones beneath his fist. Castiel takes a moment to respond, unused to the very human sensation of fragility. His screams transcend his vessel and are joined by the too human, Dean Winchester. Dean clutches his ears and blood drips through his fingers. Lucifer freezes, more literally at war with himself than was likely intended to be expressed by those who originally coined the term. The blood that drips from Castiel's breaking vessel is diluted with bleeding grace from his true form and tears from two brothers who have denied each other through pain. Michael's screams of rage and pain mix with Castiel's screams of agony and drown out the sound of the co-dependent Winchesters once again overcoming insurmountable odds. Michael finds himself thrown off of Castiel by the little brother who he still finds himself unable to associate with a vessel larger than his own.  
"Lucifer-"  
He's cut off as Lucifer's vessel grins savagely, "Nope, Sam." Michael turns to see the Cage opened once more and he's shoved gracelessly to the ground as Sam makes his way to the edge and spreads his arms as he prepares to launch the Morningstar once more unto the breach. Michael lunges as he begins to fall, but as he grips his brother tight, Sam twists, pulls Michael close and damns them all to perdition.


End file.
